


Those You Left Behind

by Paperturtledove



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author is a TommyInnit Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Niki | Nihachu Needs a Hug, Niki's really gone through it, Older Sibling Niki | Nihachu, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Philza is referenced and he's not implied to be a good dad, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sewing, Some comfort but mostly angst, Tommy can sew, Tommy wears Wilbur’s coat in exile, TommyInnit Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo's mentioned a few times but not prominent enough to tag, it’a not explicitly stated but there if you look, switches perspectives, that being said: cool motive. still murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paperturtledove/pseuds/Paperturtledove
Summary: There wasn’t much more they could say, standing in the shadow of a half filled crater and the dead man who made it.AKA, Tommy and Niki have complicated feelings about flags, coats, and each other,Or, what happened to Wilbur's coat after he died.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, TommyInnit & Niki Nihachu, Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 3
Kudos: 119





	Those You Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing was just me trying to justify how the Tommy wearing Wilbur's coat in exile headcanon could work if Niki was canonically wearing it but then I realized she was just wearing the shawl part and he still could just wear the coat part but have this anyway.  
> For real though I'm glad I wrote this. I feel like I understand Niki's character much better now.

When Tommy said he sewed, he was only really referring to clothes. Too many times playing outside and ripping his shirts and watching Phil’s clumsy attempt to stitch them back together made him decide to take things into his own hands. He needed to be able to take care of himself, after all. He was a big man! He didn’t need Philza to do it for him, just like he didn’t need him for anything else.

When Tommy said he sewed, he meant he’d sit by the fire and repair his shirts with more concentration than anyone had ever expected from the rambunctious child. He meant he found the activity relaxing enough to do it for other people and not expect anything in return. It meant he could feel that spark of pride whenever Phil and Techno would come home and ask him to fix the worn patches and tears from all their adventuring and Phil would pat his head and tell him good job. 

What Tommy didn’t know, however, was how to sew a flag. Or knit it, technically.

Squatted on the porch outside of his newly rebuilt house (destroyed in the green bastard’s explosion), Tommy felt stuck. He groaned as he looked at the bag of nylon and color dyes to make the flag Wilbur had sketched out. He knew his brother had never been very good at sewing, but surely he should know there’s a huge leap between patching up clothing and making a real, honest to Prime, national flag. He’d been sitting there, tapping his needles together, for what was probably only a couple minutes but felt like hours. To the outside viewer it looked like he was deep in thought, but really he was just stalling. 

_ What if I mess it up and have to start all over again? It’ll be so annoying.  _ Normally he’d jump at the chance to sew, especially if it made his brother proud, but today he found himself trapped in his own head. He half considered just giving up and apologizing to Wilbur. In the grand scheme of things, was the flag really that important anyway? He was about to give in when a voice rang out behind him.

“Hi there Tommy. What are you doing?” Tommy turned around to see L’manburg’s newest citizen, Niki Nihachu, walking by his house. She’d been invited there by his brother, the two being long time friends. Tommy remembered her coming over to their house a few times when he was younger. He’d be an obnoxious and clingy third wheel, always trying to relentlessly tease Wilbur for having a  _ girl _ over. Wilbur would always scold him for it, resulting in them bickering and ending with him apologizing to Niki for his loud little brother.  _ Really? He just can’t let me have some peace and quiet for two seconds? _

He liked Niki. She was nice and laughed at his jokes, so she obviously had great taste. She wore the same coat as him, only in a lighter blue. Tommy had run out of the darker fabric a while ago, but she hadn’t seemed to mind. “Trying to sew this stupid flag.” he grumbled. “I’ve been stuck thinking about it for so long, I reckon it’s better to just give up.”

“So easily? Let me see.” She walked up and looked around at the piles of dyes scattered around. “I mean, a flag is just a rectangle, right? Shouldn’t be too hard. Are you having trouble with the dye?”

He shook his head insistently, gripping his needles tightly. “It’s just dumb is all! Why do we even need this stupid flag?” He didn’t want to admit the mental exhaustion he felt just looking at the materials. He liked sewing! Why was this so hard to get started?

“Do you want help?” Tommy looked up at her. The look on Niki’s face was one of sympathy. He was about to snap that he didn’t need any pity and he could do it himself, but the potential image of Wilbur’s proud face appeared in his mind. He trusted Tommy to make this flag and here he was giving up so easily!

“I guess,” he muttered. “Just… can you do something for me?”

“What is it?”

“Can you not tell Wilbur you helped? He asked me to do it so I don’t want it to seem like I’m cheating or anything.”

She laughed and gave him a small smile. “I would like some credit, but I’ll tell him you did most of the work.” 

For the rest of the day, the two of them sat counting strands of nylon and dyeing them. He chattered away at Niki during the repetitive work, which she thankfully didn’t seem to mind. By the time the sun had gone down, they were nowhere near done, not even having finished the dyes, but progress was progress.

Over the next few days Tommy and Niki would work tirelessly, pouring their hearts and souls into their new nation’s flag. The look on Wilbur’s face as the flag flew in the wind for the first time was every bit as rewarding as Tommy thought it would be.

He’d put a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “Good work, Tommy. I’m proud of you.” Tommy felt his face light up despite himself.

“Aw, y’know. It was nothing. Sewing’s easier when you actually bother to learn it.”

“Hey!” Wilbur messed his hair teasingly. “It’s not my fault my hands aren’t steady enough to hold a needle.”

Tommy stuck out his tongue. “Says the musician.”

“I’ll have you know, holding a guitar and holding a needle are two very different things! One is much sharper for example.”

“Suuuuure, keep telling yourself that.  _ I  _ think you’re just lazy.”

Wilbur just rolled his eyes, but let it go. “Seriously though, you did a great job. And be sure to thank Niki for helping you.”

“Well, I did most of the work anyway.” His brother gave him a side eye. “...but yeah. I guess I’ll thank her.” He scurried off to go find Niki.

“Show her the flag too!” Wilbur called after him. “In fact, get Tubbo and Fundy too!”

“Get them yourself! I’m only getting Niki cause I owe her!” He sprinted over the grass, still glowing with pride.

* * *

Pogtopia was cold.

And not just in a physical way. Tommy learned quickly there was no longer any warmth to be found in Wilbur’s empty stare or Techno’s determined grimace. When they’d first arrived, Tommy and Wilbur had slept huddled together on the rocky ground, but now that they’d built their separate rooms, Tommy was alone. 

He found himself sticking to the corners illuminated by dangling lanterns, soaking up any possible warmth they could provide. He missed L’manburg. He missed making dumb jokes with Tubbo, missed when Niki sometimes slipped him a freshly baked pastry for free, he even missed Fundy pranking him. But most of all, he missed Wilbur. Ever since he’d seen the walls come down, he hadn’t really been himself.

Tommy couldn’t blame him. After seeing the flag, his flag, having been burnt to a crisp, anger has welled up inside of him. He’d relished it at first, anger was hot and easy to sink into. But looking around at their army of three, it began to dissipate into hollowness in his chest. He had no doubt they’d eventually succeed, they had Technoblade on their side after all.

But then he remembered how Tubbo was still back in L’manburg, being forced to work for Schlatt (because of course Tubbo would never work for that smelly bastard willingly. He wouldn’t!), and felt his shoulders droop. 

Once the number of guards patrolling had lessened, Wilbur and Tommy had snuck back into their houses to gather what they could. They were only able to move clothes and some basic supplies without risking getting caught, but Tommy had also stuck some yarns, spindles, and fabrics into his chest, seeing as they didn’t take up much room. Pogtopia was not only lonely, but boring as shit. 

One time, he’d been so bored he actually went to see if he could help Techno with his potato farm. He’d received a warning glare instead. “Potato farming is a delicate matter, Tommy, not for the faint of heart.” The boar had rumbled. “I don’t trust that you’re dedicated or focused enough for it.”

He scowled and turned away. “Fine. Geez, they’re just potatoes.” He would never understand his brother’s obsession with the brown lumpy food. “They don’t even taste that good.” he grumbled out of earshot. 

It was in this boredom that Tommy ended up making the same thing he’d made last time he felt this stuck - albeit on a much smaller scale - a patch of L’manburg’s flag. And like before, he showed it to the same person.

“Wilbur!” his voice echoed throughout the ravine. His brother had been doing a lot of mining lately, so there was a chance he might not even hear him.

But not this time apparently, as Wilbur suddenly popped out of the cave he’d made his room in, looking panicked. 

“What is it? Have they found us?” Tommy frowned with concern. The ex-president was so on edge these days, albeit for good reason, but still. He vaguely recalled Niki advising him to take a break on the flag, saying stress wasn’t healthy for you.

“Everything’s fine. Calm yourself Wilbur, have a carrot. Or a potato, since that’s the only thing that pig seems to eat.” He held up the patch of the flag. “I made something for you.”

Wilbur’s body relaxed a little, but he was still stiffly wound as he marched over. He glanced at the patch briefly. “The flag? Why would I want that? It’s not like the flag’s there anymore.”

Tommy drew back slightly, a little dejected. “Well, we’re going to get L’manburg back, aren’t we? Think of it as a good luck charm.” Frowning, Wilbur took the patch out of his hands. 

“What am I supposed to do with it, then?”

“I could sew it on your coat? Then you’d always have it.”

He shrugged. “If you want. I’ll go get it.”

“Wait, aren’t you wearing it?” Tommy’s confusion was not answered as Wilbur went rummaging in his room.

“Tommy, you have like, five versions of that shirt. Don’t be surprised that I have an extra coat.” He dumped the piece of fabric unceremoniously in Tommy’s arms. “Besides, I’m not going to take it off down here. It’s too cold. Do whatever you want with it.”

As Tommy trudged back to his room he could hear Wilbur begin to shuffle through his tools.  _ Probably gonna go mine for a few hours _ , he thought.  _ Again.  _ At least it was productive. His brothers were throwing themselves into farming and mining to have resources for the revolution and all did was sew a stupid flag. 

The next day he returned the coat to Wilbur, patch sewn just below the right shoulder. The ex-president stared at it for a long while, an unreadable expression on his face. Wilbur’s fingers curled over the fabric. He ran them over the patch, feeling its texture. Tommy began to get nervous.

“Uh, you alright there Big Man? You like it alright?” Wilbur blinked, looking up like he'd just been zoned out.

“I do, Tommy. Thank you.” His tone would be neutral to a stranger, but Tommy knew him well enough to notice the inflection. His brother sounded… a little sad.

He smiled awkwardly back. “Yeah, you’re welcome! If you ever want me to do the other one, just let me know.”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll only need this one. Wouldn’t want to take away more of your time.”

Tommy wanted to protest that it was no problem at all really, he loved sewing and he was terribly bored anyway, but Wilbur had already strode off, leaving Tommy to feel useless once more.

The next day, Wilbur was wearing the coat with his patch on it. Tommy swelled with pride, and felt a little less cold. The next time Wilbur made his big speech about how they were going to get L’mamburg back (one Tommy hadn’t heard from him in a while), he noticed Wilbur briefly touching the patch and straightened his back. Techno seemed to notice, cocking his head.

“You really like this country, huh?”

Tommy didn’t hear him at first. “Huh? Oh yeah, L’mamburg’s great! Aside from its current leadership of course, but that's gonna change soon, my friend.”

Techno laughed in amusement. “That it will, Tommy. That it will.”

* * *

To use one’s hands, one had to have patience and kindness. That’s what Niki always thought, anyway. In waiting for pastries to cool, in watching seeds sprout from the earth, in delicately threading the needle through each loop in order to not make a mistake, you needed patience. Niki was good at being patient. She’d been patient for so long.

As she watched the flag, their flag, burn in the sky, all semblance of patience went out the window. 

“How could you!” she shrieked. “That’s L’manburg’s flag, Fundy! Our legacy!” Eret put a hand on her shoulder, just as pissed but trying to provide comfort. 

As if to add insult to injury, the burning flag was dropped on the ground, the dirt area around the flag’s base so as not to spread the flames any further. Niki let out a horrified gasp. Flags were not meant to hit the ground. A dirty flag was a sign of disrespect and misfortune. The anger in her chest began to burn along with the flag.

“Fundy, you bastard!” Eret yelled. They’d thought L’mamburg a pitiful effort for a long time, it’s true, but they’d grown a begrudging respect (and a tiny bit of guilt) for a nation that by all accounts, shouldn’t exist. If there’s one thing Eret knew about, it’s how having your country disrespected felt.

They stood there in silence, watching Schlatt come up to congratulate Fundy, the traitor basking in the glow of a new promotion. They had been friends, he had congratulated her on her work when the flag was put up, was that all a lie? Had Fundy resented them all this much?

Schlatt turned his eyes to her, sickly yellow and horizontal pupils. That outburst would be the reason for the first tax. 

* * *

When Fundy came back to Pogtopia, he tried to apologize to her.

“It was to convince Schlatt I was on his side.” his explanation sounded monotone, as if he had already said something similar a hundred times. “It was nothing personal Niki. I had to.”

Niki took this in and took a deep breath, shutting her eyes. Behind them the image of her work and passion burning on the dirty ground, an ugly black square in its place. 

“Please don’t say that, Fundy.”

“Which part? I already said, I’m sorry-”

“That you had too! You didn’t have to Fundy!” she snapped. “No one was holding a crossbow to your head! Schlatt might’ve just taken the flag down normally if you didn’t try to ‘prove your loyalty’. No one made you.” Fundy’s ears flattened in shame, his tail tucking underneath him. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I really am sorry.” Niki felt her frustration growing. It felt more like an excuse than an apology.

“Look, Fundy. I’m grateful that you turned out to be on our side, I really am. But please, never bring this up if you ever want to be my friend again.” 

He paused, mouth slightly open, then nodded in acceptance. “Is there… is there anything I can do?”

Niki wanted to tell him there was nothing he could do to just fix this, they would just have to learn to live with it, like everything else that’d happened recently, but an idea crossed her mind. On one hand, the idea of Fundy’s hands holding thread after she’d seen them impatiently burn away their hope seemed wrong. On the other, it seemed a fitting task. Poetic, almost.

“When we get back,” she said simply. “You’re going to help me make a new flag. You, me, and Tommy. I’ll teach you how.”

Fundy nodded solemnly, pushing his hat down over his eyes and walking away. 

* * *

In the end, it had been just her and Fundy making the new flag. The new design had a heart forming from a triangle, an addition made by Niki herself. Tommy had thrown himself into his vice presidential duties in the wake of the 16th, and L’manburg being a bit of a crater vastly took priority over a new flag. When they flew it for the first time, she could see him next to Tubbo, starting to tear up. 

She put a hand on his shoulder. Niki liked to think she was good at comforting people. Many people had told her she was at least. It felt far harder and messier than clearing any garden overgrown with weeds or undoing any tangled knots would ever be, but in the end they weren’t so different. It was patience and kindness, that’s all. Perhaps now, she could have those things again.

Tommy wiped frantically at his eyes, not wanting anyone to see. “I’m sorry for getting all emotional on you. I-I wish I’d helped you make it.”

“It’s okay.” she reassured. “You’re busy. We all are.” They stood in silence after that. There wasn’t much more they could say, standing in the shadow of a half filled crater and the dead man who made it.

* * *

Tommy was once again far from home, and very, very cold.

Even a few days after his exile, he still felt as if he couldn’t process it. Why? Tubbo has been with him through thick and thin, but he cast him away over one burnt house? He recalled countless slain pets, a burnt Eiffel Tower, the first time his nation had blown up. There had been no punishment for those times, those people. But one small griefing that was partially an accident and Tubbo dropped him like a hot sack of coals. 

Words rang in Tommy’s head.  _ Selfish _ .  _ A liability _ .  _ Bad friend _ . They were so loud that he might’ve started to believe them if he didn’t know better. 

Tubbo knew how important the discs were to him. Tubbo didn’t trust him to deal with Dream. Tubbo hadn’t visited him. He wasn’t the one being a bad friend here! He rubbed his hands together, trying to get warm, and hugged his knees to his chest.

Earlier Techno had come by to laugh at him (Earlier? A few days ago? It didn’t feel like it mattered). That was fine. He didn’t care what that traitor thought. Tommy felt stupid ever considering asking him for help. Maybe some part of him still longed for the time he’d run up to his brother after he’d come home from a trip with Phil, begging to hear all about it, tugging on his leg until he’d sigh and bend down to let him look more closely at his new Netherite sword. What a stupid thought. Now the only time he’d see Techno’s weapons were when they carried the purpose of destroying what he loved. 

_ Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one. _

He scowled at the memory. It made him angry, but a different kind than he had felt towards Schlatt. There was a sharp bitterness to it. It didn’t feel good, not even cathartic. He just felt shitty.

He missed Tubbo so much.

The wind blew and Tommy shivered. The thin material of his tent provided little shelter from the chill, and his only articles of clothing were several copies of the same shirt. He remembered that Wilbur teased him for having so many and his heart ached.

“Hi Tommy!” A friendly face showed itself at the entrance, as if summoned by his thoughts. Ghostbur. He didn’t really know what to make of his brother’s ghost. He was childish in a way that felt unnatural and naive to the point of stupidity. Seeing him, Tommy didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry or try to punch the face of a person who wasn’t really there anymore.

_ You’re never gonna be president, Tommy. _

He drew himself further into the corner. “Hi Ghostbur.” he muttered.

The ghost beamed, oblivious to his sour mood. “I was looking for you! You know, i was looking all around L’manburg for something you might like, since you can’t go there yourself, and I’ll be honest, I actually forgot part of it. I tried going into this one room I hadn’t seen before, and I don’t remember what was in there, but look!” He floated down to Tommy’s level, revealing the brown bundle. He unfolded it, revealing the garment, familiar save for the large tear down the back. “Alivebur’s coat!”

Tommy let out a choked sound upon seeing that it still had his patch of the flag. “How - Ghostbur, where did you find this?”

Ghostbur frowned, a rare sight for the happy ghost. “I told you, I don’t really remember. But I remember Alivebur wore it, so I thought you might want it back.” Tommy seized it and stared. “I remember that patch too!” Ghostbur added. “Alivebur liked it, I think. That memory’s kind of blurry though.” 

Tommy pressed the coat into his chest. “Thank you, Ghostbur. I needed a coat anyway. Dunno if you can tell, being a ghost and all, but it’s mighty cold out here.” He ignored that the large hole in the back probably made it useless as a source of warmth, and the fact that he had nothing to stitch it up with.

“No problem!” Ghostbur seemed proud of himself for having found it. “I’ll let you be now. You were probably about to sleep before I barged in.”

He shook his head frantically. “No, you’re not interrupting anything. In fact, you can stay if you want to.”  _ Please stay _ , he thought.

“Well, I have nowhere else to be, so if you’re sure.” He settled down near the Prime Log. “I don’t sleep, so I’ll just squat over here.” 

“Mmn. Goodnight, Ghostbur.”

“Goodnight!” 

He put out his campfire before sleeping, leaving the gentle glow of Ghostbur’s form the only source of light in the room. 

* * *

In the end, protection from the cold was not the reason he kept it. 

Part of him feared ever taking it off after that. He didn’t know if Dream would count it as an item if he was just holding it or had it lying in his tent somewhere, and he was not about to find out. It smelled kind of musty, with some other odd scents mixed in. He shuddered and tried not to think about where Ghostbur likely found it, what the smell was probably from. 

Tommy clutched at it so tightly and so often his fingers were probably imprinted into the cloth. It slowly gained the same wear and tear as the rest of his clothes, though it was a little sturdier. Frayed edges called to him to pull on and fiddle with, letting out the nervous energy that hung inside him restlessly. His seamster’s brain scolded him for making it worse in Wilbur’s voice, jeering at him for further ruining his coat. The rest of his brain was tired and did not care enough to stop.

At the end of each day, he’d bury himself under the thin sheets of his cot and clutch the coat close to him. Normally he’d wrap himself around a spare pillow but his cot only had one and his head hurt a lot already. It wasn’t the same sensation by far, but after a while he grew accustomed enough to find comfort in it. Wilbur was gone and Ghostbur had been scarce lately, but he could cling onto this piece of him, even if it was from the him that wasn’t truly Wilbur.

* * *

At Techno’s cabin, Tommy found thread to repair his clothes, and most importantly, the jacket. He almost cried with joy as his hands stitched faster than they’d ever stitched before, guided by muscle memory and sweating with sheer relief. He was free.

Of course, that didn’t last. Techno found him eating through his gapples and Tommy felt a jolt of fear that he was going to be thrown out into the snow for Dream to find him. Techno did not do that. He let him stay.

Of course, there were conditions. Nothing good ever came without a cost. Techno tolerated his antics most of the time, but it was not an unusual thing for a Techno at the end of his rope to threaten to toss him out for Dream to find him. It always shut him right up. Tommy was painfully aware of how temporary his new life was. It wasn’t the only thing that made him worried.

Tommy could spot out of the corner of his eye Techno enchanting weapons and putting marks on a map. It made him nervous, but whenever he tried to ask about it, he was shut down.

“It’s none of your business Tommy. I’m already letting you stay here, so don’t go prying into my personal plans,” he grunted. Tommy made a show of shrugging and scampering away to go pet Carl. With most animals, all you had to do was pet them and feed them and they’d love you forever. He wished people were like that, that loving them automatically meant them loving you back.

Techno gave him new clothes for the cold. “So you don’t freeze.” He tried to seem unconcerned but Tommy remembered him complaining about the freezing air the other day and smiled. 

“Thanks, Big T.” There was a thick tunic he wore over his shirt, snow pants and boots, and a furred cape. It meant he had to retire the coat for now, folding it up and sticking it under his pillow on Techno’s couch. He told himself that it was fine, even repaired the coat was no defense for the Arctic winds, but sometimes he’d find himself grasping instinctively for the coat’s lapels only to find a completely different fabric. Every time he came back, he reached under the pillow to see if it was still there. It always was, but he didn’t stop looking.

As each day passed, his concern about Techno only grew. The withers, for one, and the threats to L’manburg (his home, despite everything), should’ve been his first warning signs. This wasn’t going to last.

* * *

In the end, L’manburg did not end because of Techno, Philza, or Dream. They destroyed it, yes, but L’manburg’s people had rebuilt once and could rebuild again, even if they had to move to a new land. In the end, it fell because of its people. 

It ended because a girl chose to set the tree and her bakery and her flower shop alight like her precious flag. Because a tricky fox chose to take the weapons out of the chest and sabotage his country. Because a blood stained butcher, who stayed in spite of himself, had lost all hope in his country. Because a ghost sobbed and sobbed, knowing he’d forget what happened that day. Because a boy much too young to be president and a boy much too young to be a hero stood over a crater holding each other tight, knowing they were the only thing the other truly had left.

L’manburg ended when its people said it did. In that, its ending had a shred of dignity.

  
  


Niki was tired. Whether it was the events of the past few weeks building up on top of each other, the lack of sleep from night terrors, or both, she didn’t really care.

She didn’t entirely know what drew her to Pogtopia. The former hideout was completely abandoned, no one having touched it since that fateful day. Buttons littered the walls she walked through, haunting the edges of her vision as she tried not to look directly at them. She passed the empty potato fields, the meeting room, the pit, all frozen in time. Niki took the chance to briefly walk in each room and scanned them blankly, not expecting to find anything of value.

Then, she walked into Wilbur’s room.

Really it could barely be called his. Niki knew he had never spent much time in it save to sleep, and even that grew questionable near the end. It had clearly been untouched for a long time. The bed looked untouched, a thin layer of dust settled on the sheets. The only other noticeable item in the room was a crate full of now moldy potatoes, their stench making Niki wrinkle her nose. 

There was nothing to keep her there, but she stood for a while anyway. It was fortunate she stayed, however, as she spotted a dark shape peeking out from underneath the bed. Curious, she bent down to see what it was. Underneath the bed were several folded articles of clothing, an extra pair of boots, and a leather bound diary. Looking down, the dark shape she’d seen was that of a familiar coat. She took in a sharp breath and pulled it out, unfolding it rapidly. Dust scattered in the air as it was moved for the first time in several months.

Niki left after that, not bothering to check any more rooms. She needed to get out of there right that instant. The coat came with her, seized as if dropping it would be seeing her flag fall to the ground once more. It seemed to be his alright, though it was lacking the patch of L’manburg’s flag she’d always seen.  _ Good, _ a part of her thought grimly. L’manburg was gone, no reminder of it deserved to exist in her mind.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten all the way back to her hideout did it occur what she exactly planned to do with it. The coat was much too long for her, and she didn’t really have anything that would go well underneath it. It wasn’t something she’d normally consider wearing, not her style, but more than that a part of her shuddered at the idea of putting on a dead man’s clothes. Perhaps she just took it to hold onto a piece of something. 

In the end, she compromised. With a pair of small scissors, she snipped the shawl part off, restitching it to be its own piece of clothing. When she placed it over her shoulders, she expected it to feel heavy, somehow, but it was relatively light. 

_ Of course. It’s just cloth. That’s all it is.  _ She felt a bit silly for even thinking that. There was nothing special about this piece of clothing other than the meaning she gave it. 

That was all.

* * *

It was the day after the 20th of January, and Tommy had a lot to think about. Yesterday’s emotions swirled inside him chaotically, all the fear, horror, relief, and joy he’d felt in the span of an hour or two. He was still trying to process it. 

There was one part that worried him more than the others, and that was the matter of Wilbur’s return. 

When he broke into Techno’s house on the night he thought would be his last, he was able to retrieve the coat once more. After a good scouring, he had found it folded up in a chest containing nothing else but a few pieces of blue (Part of Tommy wondered if Phil had put it there). 

So now, wearing the coat, he decided to go for a walk on his own. He made sure to keep signs of civilization in sight, but he mostly tried to stick to undeveloped areas for some peace and quiet. 

Peace and quiet might’ve been too much to ask for, he reckoned as he slashed at a skeleton. Bastard’s arrow nearly got him when he turned around for one second. Luckily that seemed to be the last of the mobs near him, so he let himself sit down against a tree to think.

When he’d heard Wilbur’s voice again for the first time in two months, his first reaction had been fear. Dread had pooled in his stomach that hadn’t fully gone away. From their conversation, he got the sense there wasn’t much harm Wilbur would do if they did decide to bring him back. He sounded tired, resigned to his fate, even wanting to stay dead. Tommy doubted he had any alternative motives.  _ It’s not like L’manburg’s there for him to blow up anymore. What else does he have to motivate him? _

But still, Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to have to have him back again. No, that’s not exactly true. He did want him back, but he wanted  _ his  _ Wilbur back, not that strange man down in the ravine and not a painful reminder in the form of an incomplete specter. He wanted the brother who’d let him into his room after a nightmare, the one who stayed at his bedside when he lost a life to Dream, gently strumming his guitar and taking requests to entertain him. Tommy brought his knees into his chest and squeezed his arms around them. He felt very small. He’d felt small a lot recently. He had felt small as he huddled in a crate, as Techno yelled at him about betrayal, as he watched Tubbo go to what they both thought was his final death. 

It almost overwhelmed him until he decided to stand up. His heart was pounding even though he hadn’t done anything physical. He took deep breaths and steadied himself against the tree. On the horizon, he could see the silhouette of buildings growing darker against the sunset. He should be getting back right about now anyway. It was getting dark.

Trying to calm himself, Tommy began the trek back.

* * *

Niki was too angry to be tired. She wanted to say she was too tired to be patient, but seeing the task ahead of her, it seemed patience would be necessary once more. Her and Jack had agreed that she would go up to Tommy in order to get a sense of what his situation was now. Ideally, Tommy would trust her enough to disclose at least the area he lived around and perhaps a detail or two of his current objectives.

Back in Niki’s hideout, they’d discussed the logistics of this. “You’re living with Tubbo though, why don’t you just ask him?” The idea of having to make nice with Tommy was not a pleasant one.

Jack sighed. “I did ask Tubbo and he just said he wanted to ‘respect Tommy’s privacy’ or whatever. He’s been around a few times but the two of them were always together! And I couldn’t ask him in front of Tubbo or it would look suspicious.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. He’ll trust me more than you anyway.” Niki hoped she was still right about that assessment, as she practiced forcing a smile on her face. Jack had spotted Tommy walking back this way through the woods. Niki’s job was to act like their meeting was a coincidence and that she was going home after a bit of grinding. 

The sound of leaves crunching filled the air, alerting Niki to the boy’s arrival. She turned away, trying to make it look like she hadn’t been waiting there and had just entered the clearing. 

“Niki?” a voice called from behind her. Niki stopped herself from balling her hands into fists and turned around with her practiced smile.

“Tommy! Hello, I haven’t seen you around in a while-“ she froze as he came fully into her view. 

_ That coat _

_ That can’t be.  _ She clutched at her shawl.  _ I have- _ Ah. The flag of L’mamburg was there on his right shoulder, taunting her. 

As for Tommy himself, he looked warily at her. “Uh, nice to see you too I guess. Haven’t seen you since…”  _ Since Doomsday _ . The day after she’d yelled at him for being a liar and a terror.  _ Shit. This is so stupid, why did I ever think he’d trust me right after me that? _

No. She could still salvage this. “Yeah anyway, it’s been a while. What are you up to nowadays? Do you live near here?”

“I live around, you could say.” Such an infuriating child! Giving such vague answers. Tommy’s face fell into a deep frown. “Hey Niki, where’d you get that cloak thing?”

Niki froze. Did he know? There was only one reason he’d ask that.  _ Stupid. He owns the other one, of course he recognizes it! _ No point in hiding it then. She took a deep breath.

“I got it from Wilbur.” Tommy’s expression shifted from nervous to pitiful.

“Oh. I see.”

She wanted to scream.  _ I don’t need pity! Especially not from  _ you  _ of all people! _

“Um, Niki?” He returned to a concerned tone. “Why are you acting so weird?”

Panic flared in her. “Weird? I’m not acting weird? What makes you think that?” Her acting sounded completely unconvincing.  _ Nice going there. So much for a solid plan. _

Tommy began to shuffle his feet. To her surprise, he took a step towards her instead of away. “I mean, I get it, kind of. I’m wearing his coat too. It feels weird to not talk about it. But, like, I don’t really know how. You know?”

She stood there in stunned silence. Then she half spat out; “I don’t need to talk about it.”  _ Especially not with you, _ she held back. “I’m fine.”

Tommy began to turn away from her. “Okay. If you’re sure. I think you’re lying, but sure.” And he dashed out of the clearing, leaving her agape.

How  _ dare _ he assume her feelings about anything! If he hadn’t started this whole conflict with Dream, none of this would’ve happened! Not L’manburg, not Schlatt, not  _ Wilbur _ .

Her fist collided with a tree. It splintered under the force, piercing the back of her hand. Hissing in pain, she clutched at it, pulling her hands close to her chest. Nothing she did ever went her way. There was no useful information to be gained from that conversation, only agitation. 

Her communicator went off. She checked it to see that it was Jack.  _ Tubbo has nukes. We’re testing them in a few days. And guess what? Tommy is invited. _

She delicately ran her fingers over the back of her hand to pull out the splinters, wincing each time. It was alright, she could still do this. He’d be gone, and all of this would go away. All the conflict, all the grief, it would all go away. She just needed to be patient. 

Niki was good at being patient.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A revived Wilbur, seeing Tommy wearing his coat: did you rob my fucking corpse or something?  
> Tommy: No, but your ghost did.  
> Wilbur: My wha-


End file.
